Temporary Rivers

A little more than two years ago I wrote the following post. 

And I have found it incessantly on my mind. 

For weeks. 

So tonight I decided to do something I've not done before. 

Repost. 

I'm not entirely sure why I can't seem to shake this one as of late. 

Maybe it is because a recent running injury kept me grounded for three solid weeks 

and I now find myself chanting, "Just. Keep. Going." with each painful mile I work to complete. 

Or maybe it is because I recently ran the trail that inspired this post and I thought of it once again. 

Maybe there is someone who needs to read it. 

Or maybe I am the one who needs reminding. 

Whatever it is, it doesn't much matter. 

But you should know that of all my posts this is my favorite. 

It is truly dear to my heart. 

Partly because of the beautiful response I graciously received as it touched others.

Mostly because it represents personal struggles that no one (no one!) knew of when I wrote it. 

And those long moments of sitting and thinking till I was chilled to the bone 

were integral to my finding my way to where I am now. 

So I hope you don't mind me sharing once again, 

"Temporary Rivers"  

Which I have come to understand are just that. 

Temporary. 

_______________________________________________________________

Sometimes I run for fun. Sometimes I run for fitness. 

And sometimes, I just run. 

And I learn.

       Last week I ran. And I learned.

It started as a hard run.

The legs wouldn't move fast enough.

They wouldn't move strong enough.

They ached long before they should have.

        And they just did not want to join me on my run.

I had chosen a beautiful route...

Wide trails,

Gentle rolling hills,

Lush foliage at every turn.

        And water.

It had rained all morning making the green more vibrant, and the streams full and rushing.

And I tried hard not to think about my uncooperative legs by shifting my mind to the beauty around me.

The movement of the water,

A bridge that I love,

The bend of a tree where I hope to one day sit and read,

        That curvy little downhill that I like running most. 

Pushing my mind this way helped.
And I felt better as I rounded the last corner before the final stretch home.
Until I came across a completely unexpected obstacle.

        A flooded stream crossing.

The water was rushing, pushing debris, branches and twigs swiftly on their way.

It was murky, messy, and deeper than I wanted it to be.

        I didn't know what to do.

Behind me was the more than four miles I had already so painfully run.

Ahead of me was less than two miles home.

In between lay a small temporary river. 

And no way around it.

       A choice. With no easy answer.

So I chose to sit.

And watch.

And listen.

And think.

For a very long time.

I thought about life and how sometimes we come to places that are just like this temporary river crossing. 

Messy, uncomfortable, even a little scary.

And no way around. 

Sometimes we know what lies on the other side.

Sometimes we don't. 

But usually we know what lies from whence we came.

And we are left to choose.

        Push forward or retreat?

Others came and went, each choosing to turn around and leave the muddy water uncrossed.

I wondered what kept them, what kept me, from just pushing forward? 

Was it fear? 

Uncertainty? 

Ease? 

Familiarity? 

        I had no answers.

But the wet pavement had long since soaked my clothing, and the gentle breeze had chilled my sweaty skin. 

I had to move. 

There was no more sitting and waiting. 

So I got up. And I ran. 

        Forward.

As the dirty stream water splashed up the back of my thighs I felt a gentle surge within me. 

And I learned.

I learned...

That sometimes the things that seem hard really aren't that hard at all.

But usually the things that seem messy are every bit as messy as they seem.

That sometimes there is no best answer so you just have to make up your mind.

And when there is a best answer you still just have to make up your mind.

That things don't always end up being what you expect,

But you can still feel satisfaction in what they are.

And I learned about me.
That I am stronger than I think.

And when I am not, 

        It is enough to just keep going.

I would like to end by saying that the rest of the run was easier.

Or exhilarating. 

Or empowering.

But it wasn't.

        It was just hard.

But five days later I ran the same route. 

It had rained the night before and a new temporary river had formed.

This time I did not hesitate, nor did I look back.

        I just. kept. going.